


Confessions Lost And Found

by cruelest_month



Series: Samson & Del [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Falling In Love, M/M, Romance, Separation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:16:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruelest_month/pseuds/cruelest_month
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Haven falls, Del makes strides towards becoming a hero. Faced with the possibility of losing Del <i>again</i>, Samson struggles to accept all of the things he can't control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions Lost And Found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TCRegan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/gifts).



*

In the mornings, Samson usually worked on his letters to Maddox. But it seemed like an appropriate time to work on one that evening what with their victory. The mages from Redcliffe and the glow of Del’s hand seemed to have patched up the sky. Sort of.

With everyone preoccupied with drinking and dancing, Samson also felt less pressured to try for better penmanship. His handwriting was, as it had always been, rather squiggly and childish. He had distinctly vivid memories of Chantry sisters beating the back of his hands for this short-coming. This had only made matters worse, and since then he’d always felt oddly uncomfortable with his own writing. 

Maddox, however, had insisted upon letters since that had started this whole friendship business in the first place. And so he would get them.

All the same, Samson was rather at a loss to explain Del. Or, at least, he found it difficult to explain how Del had come to be… Well, his. 

It seemed the sort of shit that Varric would write, and although Maddox had been kept abreast of general developments, Samson hadn’t been very specific. 

In a previous letter, he’d written: _I met someone. Then he died or at least I thought he had. And then he almost died again. Only now he’s alive, but he’s rather sweet. ~~I really like him. Bollocks~~. And… All right. Fine. It’s just that he is rather attached to me. And I’m not sure why._

Who are you even talking about? had been Maddox’s reply. _This isn’t that Herald, is it? I hope so. You and Andraste’s new avatar. Oh, Sam. No wonder it’s the end times._

In the next letter, Samson had gone on a little rant about leadership and how it was supposed to work versus how it seemed to be working at the moment. Then he’d answered Maddox’s question: _His name is Del. He almost drowned last week. He’s a mage. From Ostwick. And he is the Herald. Rutherford still can’t believe it, but then I suppose it must seem odd. Del choosing me, I mean._

From there he had moved on to other topics, but of course Maddox wanted more details. Which brought Samson back to his current letter.

_It’s not that I don’t want to talk about Del. It’s just… Well, he’s the one I met at that inn. Collects herbs. Cling a bit. Hates spiders. Dotes on me. It’s foolish and almost certainly a passing phase brought on by almost dying quite regularly. He’s half my age if that, and yet we spend a good deal of time together. It’s how he honestly prefers things. It’s…nice. In a way._

Here Samson paused, repacking and then lighting his pipe bowl. He puffed on the stem absently as it hung from one side of his mouth while debating word choices or how much to reveal. No matter what he did, it would be too much. It was already too much.

Someone cleared their throat nearby, and Samson folded the parchment before looking over at Del. 

“Aren’t you excited?” Del asked. Normally he was bright and cheerful when they were successful. At that precise moment he looked only tired and stressed.

“More so than you. Whatever’s the matter?”

“It was easy. It can’t be this easy.”

Samson set the letter, quill, and ink down completely. Then he put out his pipe, dumping the tobacco into the snow. A faint wisp of smoke billowed around them as he coaxed Del to him. “This is just the beginning. There’s still a good deal left to sort out.”

Del curled up against Samson, propping his chin against Samson’s shoulder. “But everyone is celebrating. People keep congratulating me. And I couldn’t find you.”

“Sorry.”

“Hm. Were you working on something?”

“Another letter to Maddox.”

“Can I stay here? I just… I don’t want to celebrate my waving a hand around.”

Samson kissed Del’s cheek. “Don’t sell yourself so short.”

“Hm.”

Usually Del wanted to be comforted. At the moment, he seemed more interested in continuing to feel useless. 

Samson for his part enjoyed dwelling. He wasn’t sure it suited Del, but it made sense. After all, Del kept making decisions, being yelled at for making them, and being overwhelmed with choices that affected more lives than he could count. 

Then again, Samson wasn’t sure how bad Del was meant to feel about what had become of templars. He felt rather guilty, and he knew Rutherford did. But considering the strange red-lyrium creatures some of their brothers had been turned into… Well, it was hardly worth thinking about.

“Can I have a little light?”

Del summoned up a trio of teal, purple, and blue wisps. “Here you are.”

“Maybe a kiss?”

Del smiled thinly but he kissed Samson soundly. “I’m sorry,” he said afterwards.

“No need to be. Let me finish this letter, and then let’s try to find something to celebrate, eh? I’ll even dance with you to some folksy tune if it’ll make you feel better.”

“All right.”

Samson hauled Del closer to him, using his legs as a temporary desk. 

_He does a decent job of looking after me, which I’m sure would amuse you. He’s sincere. Earnest. A good person. I suppose it’s easy to dismiss him as a boy who lived in a tower, and most of the men and women here do. But having almost lost him half a dozen times…_

Del chuckled, and Samson swatted him lightly with the feather of his quill. “Don’t laugh. And don’t look.”

“Oh, I’m not and… Samson, I wouldn’t laugh at your letter. It’s just… The writing. It tickles.”

“Off then.”

Del sighed but he moved over, sitting next to Samson on the fallen log he’d been using as a bench. True to his word, he ignored the parchment. He leaned against Samson’s shoulder, watching soldiers and civilians mill about. Socializing. Having a grand time of it. But the sky was still shimmering green.

_He’s capable. Clever. Strong. Brave. Optimistic. Naive and innocent in spite of it all. All sorts of things I’d envy if he wasn’t so in love with me. Or so hard on himself. He’s expected to take on so much. Be so many things to so many people. It’s confusing, I think._

_We’re not sure what we’re up against exactly outside of the giant hole in the sky, which I’m not sure if you’ve noticed what with the babies and all. It’s a big swirling void. Bright green. Demons might fall out of it from time to time. Not sure._

_But I’m doing well enough as a Captain, and if you’re short of coin, just ask. I’ve nothing to spend it on, really. Save Del or bad habits, I suppose. Although… Cullen’s mentioned giving up lyrium once and for all again. Might be time._

_Anyway, you’d better be well and so had your little family. I’d be quite cross were the reverse to be true._

Del gasped quietly as he rose to his feet, glancing out to where several men and women were shouting. “Oh no.”

Samson glanced up, frowning at what he saw. Del’s misgivings seemed to be quite well-founded. 

*

An archdemon, deformed templars, and angry hordes of demons made up the massive force bearing down on Haven. Even after sending soldiers out to man the trebuchets and saving a number of people from burning buildings, there was no real choice but to retreat. 

Samson ought to have been grateful they had a chance to retreat thanks to Chancellor Roderick finally seeing fit to be of use before he died. But as so often was the case, Samson was not as he ought to be. In this particular case, he was furious. 

After all the indecision and the inability to manage to do a damn thing without him, the advisors once again were leaving resolving an impossible, unpleasant situation to Del.

And while they ran away to continue to be as dysfunctional and incapable of cohesion as they pleased, Del who was expected to go out and act as bait. He’d lure the archdemon and the Elder One to him. And while they were busy roasting him alive and cackling about it, Del was to watch for a signal flare. Then he was to use a trebuchet to cause an avalanche. 

“How do you imagine this will work?” Samson demanded as others scurried to follow Cole and Roderick out of the Chantry. “Because poorly is the only adjective that comes to mind.”

“An emergency warrants tact,” Rutherford insisted. “It will work out just fine,” he added, looking over at Del.

“Right,” Samson muttered.

“However it works, it has to be me. They’re after me,” Del said quietly. “I can’t ask others to stay. It would serve no purpose, and maybe… Maybe the mark can help.”

Yes, the mark’s been so very helpful so far, Samson thought. It’s not like it’s tried to kill you on at least two separate occasions. Oh wait. It has. His next thought was that some lyrium would have done wonders right about now. 

“If everything goes according to plan--”

“This isn’t a plan.”

“Enough,” Rutherford snapped. “You might not like it, but now is not the time to undermine the Herald. Now, can you be of use or can’t you, Samson?”

“I can be of more use than you.”

“Then give that a try,” Rutherford said, his tone changing to something both hostile and forgiving. His look bordered on pitying, and he wasn’t alone. All of the other useless pillocks lounging about and waiting for instructions seemed to think Samson was close to simply losing his mind over the thought of losing Del again. But then none of them really, truly gave a shit if Del didn’t return. Not really.

“This is a plan. A desperate one, yes, and one that you don’t particularly care for, but it is a plan. If anyone has a chance,” Rutherford continued, “it’s Del. With that settled, we have a village to evacuate, and we can’t do that if the archdemon prevents our escape.” 

“Right,” Del said.

“The trebuchets are being prepared. So you’ll have to hold the attention of this Elder One and the archdemon until we’re past the tree line.”

Del nodded.

“The others will help you draw their focus. Then they’ll catch up to us and from there it’ll be up to you. So let that thing hear you. It’s our best chance. Yours as well.”

 _The fuck if I’m leaving him_ , Samson thought but didn’t say. Rutherford didn’t have time to fuss over him like a mother hen. And whether Samson liked the course the night was taking, the Commander needed to be focused on the tasks at hand.

“It’s going to be all right,” Del said, coming over to Samson.

Blinking, Samson realized he hadn’t moved while Del’s other companions were already racing out the Chantry doors.

“I can’t lose you,” he found himself saying. Why was it always this way? Why was he always saying it whenever he was coming close to having to contend with the very thing he wanted to avoid?

“I know.”

“And you agreed even knowing...”

“I agreed because I have to. Samson, I don’t mean to keep putting you through this,” Del said, cupping Samson’s face in his hands. “I really don’t, but it has to be me. Don’t you think I can do it? Because I think I can do it. I want to be able to.”

“You are. You can. Only I don’t really want you to be because you matter to me.”

“Yes, and… Honestly, I hate this. It feels… It… hurts so badly to hurt you like this when you mean everything to me. But the world sort of needs saving, you know?”

 _Fuck the world. I’m going to set it all on fire if it takes you from me_ , Samson thought. He tugged Del closer and kissed him fiercely. “All right, all right,” he said, more to himself than Del. “I can’t… Waste any more of your time, but I’m not a big fan of heroes. Have I mentioned that?”

“No, but seeing as you like me for who I am…”

“Don’t,” Samson growled out. “Don’t you fucking start that shit with me right here and now. Either commit to being an idiotic hero or be an intelligent coward and run away with me. I’d much prefer the latter.”

Del smiled sadly. “I have to be an idiotic hero today.”

Samson sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

There was so much more to say. So much more that he just couldn’t articulate, but they had work to do. 

They were able to stick together for a time, even as they fought off waves of red templars alongside the soldiers and mages. But when the archdemon struck back with fire, everyone scattered as some of them ran and others were hurled back by the force of explosions and the massive beating of the archdemon’s wings. 

When Samson landed hard in a patch of icy snow, another set series of explosions went off next to him, filling the air with smoke. He staggered to his feet, coughing along with Pavus, Blackwall, and Sera. 

When they turned toward the right path that led up to the tree line, he moved away and headed for whatever was left of Haven. He wanted to get back to Del, to figure out a--

“Get out of my way,” Samson snarled out.

“Can’t,” Bull said with a sigh. “I know this is gonna piss you off but… It ain’t happening.”

“Some fucking bodyguard you are.”

Bull snorted. “Are you trying to hurt my feelings? That’s cute.”

“I’m trying to suggest you’re doing the world’s worst job of earning your pay.”

“What he’s doing up there? You couldn’t pay me enough to join him and honestly? You’re not.” 

“Then step aside and let me do it.”

“You think you’re gonna help? What you’re gonna get is set on fire. You and that shitty wooden shield of yours. And while you’re screaming in agony, the kid’s concentration is going to get shot to hell. And then? He’s going to die trying to look after you.”

Samson growled and shoved at the Qunari. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

“Again, it can’t happen. You can’t move me. Stronger men have tried.”

“What are you doing?” Cassandra asked, as she moved to stand next to Bull. “Samson, now is not the time for this stubbornness.”

“Then when is?” 

“I know how you feel,” she continued, brow furrowing. Her look wasn’t pitying so much as frustrated. “You have made no secret of your concern. You think-- No. You continue to believe that we are using him and sending him there because we think it will not matter if we lose him. But that is not true at all.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Of course not,” Cassandra angrily replied. “The Herald is the only one who can handle this Elder One and his minions. Del is all that stands between us and a future grimmer than we can even conceive, but one that he has experienced. He knows what is at stake better than we do. If he cannot manage this distraction, Haven will only be the first village that falls. Everything will burn. All will be lost. So do not think Cullen sent him to spite you or because he is expendable. We sent him because of who and what he is. And if we lose him, we have no chance at all.”

“This isn’t about chances. This is about…” Samson gritted his teeth. “Never you mind what it’s about.”

“As if you’ve been so subtle that no one can guess,” Bull said in a low rumble. “You wanna fight, let’s go. Time’s a-wastin’.”

Samson stared at Cassandra. She’d folded her arms, irritated and clearly done trying to reason with him. She was, he could tell, vaguely disgusted although he knew she’d forgive him. That only made matters worse.

He looked over at the Qunari. Bull’s one, unblinking eye held his gaze and the understanding it made Samson so angry that for a moment all he saw was white. Then he blinked as Bull prodded him hard in the chest, flicking a large finger against his chin until Samson had to look up.

“Every second you stand here thinking about killing me or how much you hate her for being right for a change? Is another second closer to fucking up everything the kid’s doing. So either fight me or man up already. My advice is that you just man up. I mean… Come on, Samson. Even I know this is stupid.”

Samson clenched his fists and his teeth as he looked at the Qunari and then the Seeker.

He couldn’t fight Bull. He couldn’t fight Cassandra. He’d lose, but more importantly, Del liked them. He worked with them, and he liked them. And, despite wishing the archdemon would swoop down and set them both on fire, Samson liked them too. Respected them even.

So, loathing himself more than he ever had, even in those terrible days spent in Darktown, he gave up. He holstered his sword and buckled his shield. 

“Well,” Cassandra began, as she moved towards him,”I am glad you are able to see--”

“Not a good time for that,” Samson managed. “Don’t want to hear it.”

Bull cleared his throat, looking oddly sheepish as they both turned in his direction. “I got this,” he said, heading over to Samson. “So. Seeing as you’re already mad, uh… Sorry about this too, okay?”

A large grey hand punched him squarely in the gut. And then swiped at the side of his face. And then instead of white, he didn’t see anything at all.

*

Wincing, Samson opened his eyes and then shut them again. Even the dim candlelight hurt. 

“Of all the idiotic notions!” Cassandra was shouting. 

“In my defense? I believe my exact words were ‘I got this,’” Bull pointed out.

“I assumed that you were going to say something else that would ease his mind. I did not foresee you beating him unconscious.” 

“Technically, I still eased his mind.”

“You did nothing of the sort. He was upset, but he put his weapons away. He wasn’t going to fight you. There was going to be a peaceful reconciliation.”

“I for one find it hard to believe,” Pavus said in a slow drawl, “that you thought it wouldn’t escalate to, or at least end, in some form of violence. Qunari are simply a less fuzzy, less endearing sort of druffalo. They just headbutt their problems until they go away.”

Cassandra snorted in disgust. 

“Can we agree to ignore the Vint at least?” Bull asked her.

“We can.”

“Great. So… Look. Violence was inevitable,” Bull insisted. “Sure, he was going to let you off the hook and he wasn’t about to mess with me. But I’m pretty sure he’d have kicked Cullen’s ass straight down the mountain when we joined up with the group. Or at least helped that Rod guy to an early grave.”

“Chancellor Roderick is dying, you insensitive buffoon.”

“Earlier grave then. Honestly, this is what you’re going to get hung up, Vint? You don’t even like the guy.”

“Can you all shut the fuck up?” Samson asked, sitting up in a… tent. With a Qunari, a Tevinter mage and a Nevarran Seeker squabbling over him. Just brilliant. “Where are we?”

“You’re staying put regardless of where we are,” Pavus said. “You’ve a number of broken ribs thanks to your...friend here.”

“And Del?”

There was a pause. 

“The Herald is not here yet,” Cassandra said. “We have several search parties trying to locate him.”

“The rest of us stuck around to bicker over you,” Pavus put in. “Although you’ll be relieved to learn that many of the Inquisition has moved on to worrying over what’s to become of this whole mess with or without young Trevelyan. There’s been a good deal of vigils and... hopeful singing. It really is quite quaint down South.”

“Singing?” Samson asked, making a face. “I might have to thank you, Bull. After I murder you, of course.”

Bull shrugged even as he smirked. “Of course.”

Hours passed, and Pavus and Cassandra both left to join the search as two of the groups returned, exhausted and frost-bitten. 

Just why Bull stuck around was impossible to say. He didn’t seem to be stricken with any sort of guilt or remorse. Samson thought of asking, but he refrained. He sort of liked the company, especially when Bull remained silent.

For his part, Samson felt out of sorts. He was rather concerned about what he has missed. Wondering how Del had fared, but not if he was alive. It just seemed impossible to believe he wasn’t, and Samson was too tired to allow his thoughts to stray down that path. Not again. Not after the last two times. 

Lyrium would have helped, but then he found himself strongly resenting the thought. How would lyrium help matters if Del was lost in the snow somewhere? 

Eventually, a shout came from outside followed by several others. Among the myriad of voices, was Rutherford’s. He was, as per usual, barking out orders.

“They found him!” a scout said, peering into the tent. “The Herald, that is, and…” He paused, looking up at Bull. “ The Commander told me to tell you lot that you’re to leave if you’re not injured or a healer.”

“I’m injured,” Samson mused. 

Bull grinned. “See? I helped.”

“Yes, well… Go away, will you?”

Cassandra carried Del into the tent as Bull left. 

Del was unconscious, wrapped in Cullen’s cloak. His lips were chapped and the tips of his fingers slightly blue. He didn’t seem terribly injured, and some healing from various mages seemed to take care of whatever damage there was. 

Samson had been told not to move, he still inched his cot over to Del’s when the healers stepped out to consult with the Inquisition’s advisors.

Before getting back in his own cot, Samson hovered over Del’s. “You better wake up knowing you proved yourself,” he murmured, brushing a hand through Del’s hair. “But I hope you know I’ll never need that from you. Proof, I mean. Because I see it every day. You’re perfect the way you are, and I… When you’re awake, I’ll say the rest of what I’d sorely like to say to you.”

Gritting his teeth, Samson picked up several blankets and gently spread them out over Del. Then he got back into his cot. He let his fingers curl around Del’s before he drifted off again.

*

Samson grimaced as someone shoved at his shoulder. “Sod off,” he muttered. When the shoving continued, he scowled. “Hands off. Do that again and so help me I will drag your sorry carcass back to Haven and rebuild a trebuchet just to fling you right through the fucking hole in the sky.”

“Just the sort of greeting I’ve come to expect.”

Samson reluctantly opened his eyes. “...ah. Hello then, Del.”

Del was smiling, untroubled by the rude remarks. “Hello.”

“I thought you were Rutherford or Pavus.”

“I’m not sure your unrealistic threat would be any more appropriate for them.”

“That’s because you’re starting your noble hero phase,” Samson groused, sitting up on his cot. “Fuck but that hurts. So. Unscathed, are you?”

Del moved from his own cot to sit next to Samson. “Mostly. It… The Elder One is quite dangerous and the dragon was too. And I’d rather not serve as bait again. But I did well. And I learned more magic on the way back.”

“Did you? Is that what took you so long?”

“That and the bitter cold. And the wolves.”

“Wolves?”

“I never saw them,” Del insisted. “I only heard them. What happened to you?”

Samson considered his options.

Del laughed and kissed Samson’s cheek. “Oh, come on, tell me.”

“Would you believe I took on a behemoth all by myself?”

“Yes, only I’d prefer you just told me what actually happened to your face. And your ribs.”

“My face?”

“Bruises,” Del explained, lightly brushing fingers over Samson’s right cheek. “I can heal them.”

“You ought to rest up.”

“After. So?”

“So I tried to get back to you and Bull happened.”

“Oh, Samson,” Del said fondly. 

There was a bit of amusement in his tone that Samson would have had to do something about had Del been anyone else. But he decided he’d force himself to tolerate it. “That’s me," he muttered. "Constantly trying to be of use and always failing miserably.”

“It’s not like that,” Del said soothingly. “It’s so sweet that you wanted to come help, but.. Well, I’m not happy you’re hurt, but I’m pleased Bull stopped you. You’d have been… I’m just glad you were safe. Knowing you were somewhere else helped me be brave.”

“How?”

“Because I wanted to get to you after. And because you were so worried. I promised you I wouldn’t go somewhere you couldn’t follow but I have. I went to that future and I went… I had to go, but I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

“You never lied,” Samson assured him, wrapping an arm around Del’s waist as Del leaned against him. “You’ve come back both times. What you did back at Haven... I know you did for all of us but I hope you did it for yourself.”

“For myself?” 

“To prove you’re more than just what you seem to be, which I hate because what you are is more than enough.But after what happened, everyone will see you as much more than a boy in over his head. They’ll see you as a true Herald and more besides.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know so,” Samson said with a heavy sigh. “It’s the way of things. Most people never believe in other people just in bewildering nonsense that can’t be explained. But they need that so sometimes you have to let them. That’s not true for us. I know it isn’t true for me.” 

“I know.”

“Then let me say this.” Samson moved back a little, turning Del so they were facing each other. “You are perfect. You are enough, all right? I can put up with the brave mystical religious warrior bullshit. That’s not going away anytime soon, but I much prefer you as you. Because…” 

Del stroked Samson’s uninjured cheek, waiting for him to continue.

Look,” Samson said, unable to keep from sounding a bit angry. “I love you. Have done for what feels like an entire age now, but I do love you. I reckon I will keep on doing it so… How about it?”

Del laughed, pulling Samson into a warm embrace. And if he added some sort of healing spell to the hug, well, Samson didn’t have it in him to complain. “I love you too.”

*

There was more singing, and at some point Del was lead away for a private discussion. Samson slept on and off, waking up mainly to Del’s kisses. 

At one point though, it was Rutherford was nudging him awake.

Samson startled, scowling significantly as he shoved the man away. “Back off, would you? I’m vaguely injured, not dying.”

Rutherford rolled his eyes, but he moved his chair further away from Samson’s cot. “I just wanted to make sure you were well.”

Samson grunted, wincing as he sat up. “I’m well enough.”

“I ought to have insisted you come with me. If I’d known Bull would decide to beat some sense into you--”

“You’d have told him not to bother as it wouldn’t stick?”

“I’d have stopped him,” Rutherford said, looking a little offended. And-- bless him -- slightly hurt. “You had every right to be concerned, and… Maker, you’re all black and blue and… I’m sorry.”

Samson chuckled, taking pity on him. If pressed though, he’d only say he was endeavoring to avoid any more pithy, religious sing-alongs. “Oh, it’s all right. I’ll mend. Didn’t headbutt me or anything. Just punched me.”

“All the same…” Rutherford sighed, shrugging slightly. “There was nothing else that could have been done besides send Del. And he was far braver than I would have been in his stead. I’m impressed.”

“Is that why you woke me up?”

“That and you’re always asleep when I check on you. Cassandra had me keep prodding you when you first came back. In case you had a concussion. I doubt you remember that.”

“I don’t. Not surprised she elected you for the job. You’re a soft touch,” Samson said with a smirk. 

“And… I know you’re going to laugh or deny it, but you’re my friend.”

Samson grinned, jostling Rutherford’s shoulder. “I’m not as big a prick as that, and we are friends. Sometimes. Just don't go around singing about it or I’ll break your neck.”

Rutherford smiled slightly. “Del should be back soon. I won’t linger.”

“Might as well grab your cloak before you go.”

“Yes, I should… Should I wash it after I leave?”

“At some point, but not because of Del or myself.”

Blushing, Rutherford sighed in relief as he gathered up the fur. “Something else to be thankful for.”

“No doubt.”

Samson stayed as he was after Rutherford was gone, rummaging around in Del’s satchel for something to read. His hands lighted first on the teal journal Samson had gifted him back in Orlais.

He opened to a random page, smiling as he considered the crisp penmanship. The little hearts. And... A list of his finer qualities. Samson read over them slowly until a surge of fierce fondness and a tightening of his chest made him stop. It was nothing new, to be honest, but it meant a great deal. 

Even more so when he considered the other ways in which he might have found this journal and these musings. In the snow near the remains of the trebuchet. Half-eaten by the fire that had destroyed so many of Haven’s homes. This might have been all Del would be able to leave him had things gone differently. And the sort of man he’d be then… Samson closed his eyes then went back to mulling over Del’s journal.

Even flipping through the book and taking care not to linger on any one section for long, Samson noticed his own name was on nearly every page. Kind and flattering sentiments. Loving. Sweet. Nothing negative, nothing remotely like that. So many pages of things they’d done and things they would do.

Samson patted the moth on the journal’s cover before tucking the book back in its pocket. He wondered what had become of that letter he’d meant to send to Maddox. Buried in the snow somewhere most likely. 

Del returned after that, and Samson had to resist the urge to tug him into his arms. Mainly because Del had brought him supper.

They sat on a cot, sharing a meal in the dark with Del’s wisps dancing around them.

“Solas has a place for us to go,” Del said after a while. 

“I hope it’s big enough for all of us,” Samson muttered, considering the campsite. 

“Hm. So many survived. I’m glad.”

“You survived. That’s all I can focus on. I ought to be more like you. Kinder.”

“I love you for being how you are,” Del pointed out. “And, between you and me? When it comes to the survivors, I’m not sure how much I would care if you weren’t among them.”

“I, um… I know I gave you a hard time when I was writing my letter… But I saw your journal. A few pages.”

Del blushed. “Oh… I… It’s just…”

“Good stuff,” Samson said, putting an arm around Del’s shoulders. “And I won’t do it again. Unless you want to show me because I’m open to suggestions from any of the lists.”

“Really?”

Samson brushed his fingers through Del’s hair, smiling when Del moved closer to him. “Of course, darling.”

“I always feel so much. About you. And sometimes it’s just easier to write it down than babble.”

“I don’t think there’s a journal that can contain all of you or your thoughts. I don’t want there to be. So… you babble whenever you want, all right?”

“All right but… will you babble too?”

“Me?”

“You share with me, I know that. But…. you keep so much to yourself. You don’t have a journal but you write letters to your friend, and surely…” Del sighed, looking down. “I mean, you mention me, right?”

Samson blinked.

Del looked up. “Sometimes? Or maybe you don’t, but I was hoping--”

“How could I fail to mention you?” Samson asked. “What other person is there for me to tell him about.”

“So you write about me.”

“Of course I do,” Samson insisted. “I wish you’d believe me when I keep telling you that I’m not completely foolish.” 

Del laughed.

“I’d like to prove it because the last letter was all about you… Only it’s back in Haven somewhere.”

“That’s a shame.”

“It is. I think an infinite amount of good things about you,” Samson continued. “I feel… a lot. But when it comes to pen and paper, my words are clumsier and my writing is dismal. I can barely make out what I’ve put down. And I’m not drawing hearts for Maddox.”

“You should only draw hearts for me,” Del agreed, moving slowly. “Is it alright… Could you hold me?”

“I would be glad to,” Samson said, laughing when Del was in his arms before he was even finished with giving his approval. “Hello.”

Del kissed his cheek. “Hello,” he repeated. 

There was a bit of quiet for a time. Samson let his hands run down Del’s back then up through his hair. Del’s breathing evened out a bit. He wasn’t all that injured, but Samson had no doubt he was tired. Maybe not as overwhelmed, but Del was still burdened with a multitude of responsibilities. And the world still needed a good deal of saving.

As the wisps dissipated slowly, Samson tugged Del’s cot over, setting him down on it. He leaned over, kissing Del’s forehead and then his lips. 

Del returned the kisses, wrapping his arms tightly around Samson’s neck when he tried to move away.

“We ought to sleep. I’ll be right here beside you,” Samson said soothingly.

“I’ll sleep but tomorrow… Tomorrow you need to tell me things.” 

“What shall I tell you?”

“How you feel. What you think. Some of what you’ll write in the letters.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” Del said, his tone equal parts longing and hopeful. “I want that very much. So… Please?”

“Anything,” Samson said, lying down on his own cot. He kept a hand tangled up in Del’s hair, the other brushed over Del’s cheek. “Anything for you. Anything to make certain you know how much I love you. I promise.”

*

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, TCRegan for looking this over and putting up with me on a regular basis.
> 
> More fic for this series should be happening soon. For the past few weeks, I've been working on a very long fic project about Cullen/Male Amell that will take place in the same 'verse. Hopefully I will get to posting that in the next month or so. Right now I'm just trying to finish it. And I might have to try my hand at Borderlands fic in the near future.


End file.
